Plan A

It was time again to ask the kids what they want to be when they grow up. In the past Caitlynn wanted to be a doctor and a princess. Over the past few months, she changed her mind to artist or archeologist. The archeology thing came from her obsession with all things Egyptian. She wants to travel to Egypt to see the pyramids. Perhaps someday we'll make the journey.

But when I ask Miles he doesn't quite know what he wants to do when he gets older. I find this rather disconcerting. He's four and doesn't have a plan for the future. I thought by now he'd have his 5 year, 10 year, and 15 year plans set in stone. Instead, he'd rather watch Scooby Doo and play with his toys.

Ah, I'm just kidding. He needs to be a kid. At some point he'll realize that he can't be Spiderman. I just hope it's before he reaches age 18. You can't major in spiderweb design in college.

And what about me, you might be wondering. Do I have a 5 year or a 10 year plan? Let's see...

In 5 years I hope to be living back east (well, east of Montana, that is) with a good job. In 10 years, Caitlynn will be graduating from high school and heading off to college. Oh and I was hoping to someday be Wonder Woman, plant a money tree, and rescue Brad Pitt from that oh-so ugly woman he's been residing with. Because, you know, Brad needs rescuing.

At least I have a plan. Sort of.

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Yo.

Hey, Miles... The next time you want to screech and throw a fit in Albertsons, can you attach yourself to another mom's leg? I'm getting close to disowning you in public. Yeah, you heard me, Mr. Fussy Pants. I don't want to be your mother while we are shopping for milk in the supermarket.

While, I'm at it, I don't feel like feeding you copious amounts of high fructose corn syrup, sugar, candy, gum, or anything else that is highly addictive to children (which includes most things made by Nabisco, Kraft, and the Keebler Elves). So, quit asking me to buy soda pop and Starbursts each time we go to the store. Sorry to spoil the fun. Remember, I will give you a chance to write a book when you are older so you can let everyone know just how bad a mommy I really was.

And can we discuss this screeching? It's the equivalent to nails on a chalk board. With each screech, the muscles in my back immediately tense up and my shoulder begins to twitch. From the looks of those around us (in public, that is), it appears your particular screech has the same affect on everyone. When we squint our eyes and send toxic glares your way, perhaps it's your cue to stop screeching over such trivial matters as bubble gum or balloons.

Now, I need to address the parents who live in my small town. When a 4-year-old boy starts throwing a fit in the store, it is not necessary for you to stare me down. I'm not the one screaming and causing you pain. It's my son and he's at that stage where he wants anything and everything and he wants it NOW. I see you have children. Maybe I missed the class sponsored by our mayor's office that gave out instructions on what to do with 4-year-old boys hell-bent on ruling the world. It appears that no other kids in town throw hissy fits over candy or Oreos. Perhaps this place is a bit of an anomaly when it comes to kids -- all the children are well behaved, listen their parents, and eat nothing but healthy foods. If that's the case, National Geographic should come here and do research.

So, it looks like I'm the only one in the running for Worst Mother of the Year whereas the Mother of the Year category is filled to the brim with moms from Caitlynn's school. May the best mom win.

At least I'll win something this year. Yay for me.

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Things I learned this week...

Which make me wonder, "Do I really need to know these things?"

• MacKenzie Phillips claims of incest and how her father shot her up with drugs. I think I was better off not knowing this, but thanks, MacKenzie for sharing. I hope you feel better know because now I have lost faith in all of humanity.
• Jude Law is a dad - again. Can someone give this guy a condom?
• Why are the guests on the new Jay Leno show news? Kanye crying. Pee Wee Herman. Who's next? Macaulay Culkin talks to Jay about his "friendship" with Michael Jackson?
• People always want to fix things that already work. Craiglist is the new thing that web designers/programmers want to fix. I say, leave it alone. People like the simplicity.
• I'm all for being green and environmentally friendly, but I draw the line at asking which leaves a smaller carbon footprint, beer or wine. Either drink it and recycle the bottle or don't drink at all. Easy.
• I just don't need this mental picture. I really don't.

Need a laugh? Read the headlines at The Onion. Fake news at its finest. Or better yet, watch The Daily Show. Absurdity at its finest.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Our Dead Planet
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Healthcare Protests

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busy little beaver

Posts this week are on hold until my life slows down a bit.

School. Kids. School. More school (specifically Stats and Biology). Kids.

I should be back to posting in a couple of days.

Insane in the Brain

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Lobsters

As I stated last week, I was toying with the idea of cooking a live lobster with the kids. I was very curious to see what their reactions would be. When I told Joe about this, he said that I was doing psychological experiments on our children. I guess I shouldn't have given him my Dr. Evil laugh after I explained the lobster bit to him nor should I been wearing a lab coat or carrying around a clip board.

So, on Friday I took the kids to the store and we picked out a lobster. They were very curious about it on the way home:

Does it poop?
Does it pee?
Does it have a name?

When we got home, Miles was a my little helper (Caitlynn just wanted to see the end product). He pulled up a chair and petted it while I started boiling the water. He wanted me to give the lobster a blanket because it was cold. I told Miles it wasn't necessary... hehehe...

So, the kids passed my little psychological experiment. Miles liked talking to the lobster (as he does with all his food) but really enjoyed seeing the whole process, including the inside of the cavity -- What's the icky green stuff?? Caitlynn didn't care one way or the other. She was most impressed that it changed colors from brown to red. And no, AV, she isn't a vegetarian. At this point, I'm not sure anything would make her a vegetarian (she calls herself a meatatarian).

In case you want to know how to cook a lobster, check out the post on my cooking blog.

Oh and today is Elephant Appreciation Day. Have you thanked an elephant today?

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I have a gripe....

Can the media quit talking about Jon and Kate? They aren't the first couple to get divorced and won't be the last. Why do people care if Kate hates Jon or if Jon was tortured by Kate?

Enough already. There are 8 kids involved in this thing. If I was one of their children, I'd be mad at both Jon and Kate for putting this whole ordeal in the spotlight.

I don't read the articles about them but the fact that they take up space on CNN.com or other news websites irritates me. Is it too much to ask that the media stop reporting on such trivial matters? I guess so.

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Look who got her ears pierced...

Little Miss Caitlynn got her ears pierced. The original plan was to wait until her birthday but she was a little impatient and wanted it done sooner.

She was such a good sport for the whole process. She was nervous but didn't cry. Now she says her ears feel weird.

My little girl is growing up...

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Don't mess with the original

Even though I wrote about this not too long ago, Caitlynn didn't read the blog post. She decided to quiz me on which books in our home I've read and which ones I haven't. She even asked me what they were about. Geez Louise. I thought I was done with book reports.

Then she saw my book The Complete Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm and got really excited about the prospect of hearing the original Cinderella story (Snow White and Briar Rose, aka - Sleeping Beauty- are next). The book itself is quite thick and heavy and as Caitlynn pointed out, has very few pictures. This is in stark contrast to the Cinderella story sold by Disney which shows cute little mice helping a beautiful (blonde) Cinderella put on her gown for the ball.

Caitlynn being intrigued by the book wanted me to read some of the stories. I started with Cinderella.

Let me make sure we are we all familiar with the Disney version of Cinderella? Beautiful girl treated badly by evil step mother and step sisters. Yada, yada, yada...

In the original....

Dear old dad does not die but is alive throughout the story. Which means, he lets his daughter become a servant in his house. Nice. Then at the end, the step sisters cut off parts of their feet (big toe for one and part of the heel for the other) in order to make the slipper fit. Gruesome. But wait, there's more... the step sisters get their eyes gouged out by pigeons so that they'll be blind the rest of their lives. Double gruesome.

Most of the original stories have some sort of gory reality thrown in that the end. These were stories told to educate kids on morals or to scare the crap out of them from going into the woods alone (Little Red Riding Hood). I guess the Germans needed to add some shocking details to the stories to prove their point.

Disney decided to make things cute and nice to prove their point - that blonde girls get picked on by brunette girls but end up with the Prince thanks to undeniable beauty and singing mice and birds.

I don't know about you, but I like the original version better. Miles and Caitlynn were grossed out but enjoyed some of the goriness of the tales. Maybe my kids are a little demented. I'm pretty sure that's an inherited trait.

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Now for something completely off topic...

I majored in English for my first bachelors degree. What did it prepare me to do? Basically I learned how to read really long books and write really long papers about the really long books.

As part of my major, I took a composition class, which introduced me to The New Yorker. The students in the class were given free one-year subscriptions, thanks to the English Department at Miami University (*ahem*.... in Ohio, not Florida). One of the most memorable pieces of writing I read that whole term was by Steve Martin. This little piece has stuck with me since then. Below is the full version and I dedicate it to all those bloggers who have a tough time finding something to write (including me). You know, what is commonly referred to as "writer's block." It appears funny-man Steve Martin rarely suffers from it...

Writing is Easy!
by Steve Martin

The New Yorker
June 24, 1996

Writing is the most easy, pain-free, and happy way to pass the time of all the arts. As I write this, for example, I am sitting comfortable in my rose garden and typing on my new computer. Each rose represents a story, so I'm never at a loss for what to type. I just look deep into the heart of the rose, read its story, and then write it down. I could be typing kjfiu joew.mv jiw and enjoy it as much as typing words that actually make sense, because I simply relish the movements of my fingers on the keys. It is true that sometimes agony visits the head of a writer. At those moments, I stop writing and relax with a coffee at my favorite restaurant, knowing that words can be changed, rethought, fiddled with, and ultimately denied. Painters don't have that luxury. If they go to a coffee shop, their paint dries into a hard mass.

LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION

I would like to recommend that all writers live in California, because here, in between those moments when one is looking into the heart of a rose, on can look up at the calming blue sky. I feel sorry for writers - and there are some pretty famous ones - who live in places like South American and Czechoslovakia, where I imagine it gets pretty dank. These writers are easy to spot. Their books are often filled with disease and negativity. If you're going to write about disease, I would say California is the place to do it. Dwarfism is never funny, but look at what happened when it was dealt with in California. Seven happy dwarfs. Can you imagine seven dwarfs in Czechoslovakia? You would get seven melancholic dwarfs at best - seven melancholic dwarfs and no handicap-parking spaces.

LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA: WHY IT'S A BAD TITLE

I admit that "Love in the time of..." is a great title, up to a point. You're reading along, you're happy, it's about love. I like the way the word time comes in - a nice, nice feeling. Then the morbid Cholera appears. I was happy till then. Why not "Love in the Time of the Blue, Blue, Bluebirds"? "Love in the Time of Oozing Sores and Pustules" is probably an earlier title the author used as he was writing in a rat-infested tree house on an old Smith Corona. This writer, whoever he is, could have used a couple of weeks in Pacific Daylight Time.

A LITTLE EXPERIMENT

I took the following passage, which was no doubt written in some depressing place, and attempted to rewrite it under the sunny influence of California:

Most people deceive themselves with a pair of faiths: they believe in eternal memory (of people, things, deeds, nations) and in redressibility (of deeds, mistakes, sins, wrongs). Both are false faiths. In reality the opposite is true: everything will be forgotten and nothing will be redressed. - Milan Kundera.

Sitting in my garden, watching the bees glide from flower to flower, I let the above paragraph filter through my mind. The following New Paragraph emerged:

I feel pretty,

Oh so pretty,

I feel pretty, and witty, and bright.

Kundera was just too wordy. Sometimes the delete key is your best friend.

WRITER'S BLOCK: A MYTH

Writer's block is a fancy term made up by whiners so they can have an excuse to drink alcohol. Sure, a writer can get stuck for a while, but when that happens to a real author -- say, a Socrates or a Rodman -- he goes out and gets an "as told to." The alternative is to hire yourself out as an "as heard from," thus taking all the credit. The other trick I use when I have a momentary stoppage is virtually foolproof, and I'm happy to pass it along. Go to an already published novel and find a sentence that you absolutely adore. Copy it down in your manuscript. Usually, that sentence will lead you to another sentence, and pretty soon your own ideas will start to flow. If they don't, copy down the next sentence in the novel. You can safely use up to three sentences of someone else's work -- unless you're friends, then two. The odds of being found out are very slim, and even if you are there's usually no jail time.

A DEMONSTRATION OF ACTUAL WRITING

It's easy to talk about writing, and even easier to do it. Watch:

Call me Ishmael. It was cold, very cold here in the mountain of Kilimanjaroville. I could hear a bell. It was tolling. I knew exactly for who it was tolling, too. It was tolling for me, Ishmael Twist. [Author's note: I am now stuck. I walk over to a rose and look into its heart.] That's right, Ishmael Twist.

This is an example of what I call "pure" Writing, which occurs when there is no possibility of its becoming a screenplay. Pure writing is the most rewarding of all, because it is constantly accompanied by a voice that repeats, "Why am I writing this?" Then, and only then, can the writer hope for his finest achievement: the voice of the reader uttering its complement, "Why am I reading this?"

(This sentence written by Steve Martin as heard from Cindy Adams.)

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New Rule

If I'm not mistaken there seems to be a set of unwritten rules regarding the raising of children. They could be written down somewhere but I haven't ever seen The Book or The Tablet displaying the 10 Commandments of Child Rearing.

I think this set of rules (or perhaps, guidelines is a better term) is ever changing, like amendments are added over time. For instance, a set of New Rules has been added to address the new technologies that are emerging -- iPhones, Wii, Internet, etc.

• Thou shalt not text at the dinner table.
• Thou shalt not spend more than 8 hours at a time playing video games.
• Do not post unflattering photos and/or videos of your mother and father on Facebook, My Space, or You Tube.

But there is one rule that has stood the test of time. I'm sure this was an issue with Cavemen and I'm willing to bet Jesus was scolded for this: Do not play with your food.

Caitlynn and Miles don't usually play with their food. They are sloppy eaters, yes, but playing with their food? Nope. Instead, Miles has started talking to his food before he eats it. Based on the conversation I overheard while he was eating his spaghetti the other day, I may need to amend the "don't play with your food" guideline to "don't talk to your food."

"Come here little spaghetti. I'm going to eat you."
"Down you go!"
"So long, matey!"

Disturbing? He talks to all his food in this manner from yogurt to pizza. ("Hey pizza... I'm going to get you." Chomp.) I fully expect his food to start scooting away from him as he starts stabbing it with his fork.

He was eyeballing the live lobsters at the grocery store the other day. I wonder what he'll say to it if I choose to buy one and cook it.

"Have a nice bath!"

I think I'll buy one just to find out.

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Remember back when...

there were educational cartoons on Saturday morning in between episodes of Bugs Bunny and the Smurfs?

I learned how a bill is made into a law (I wonder, is this required viewing for new Congressmen/women and Senators?):



And what conjunctions are, which helped me out in Mrs. Crandall's 7th Grade English class:




Thanks, School House Rock!

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It's not you, it's me. On second thought, it is you.

The kids are tired of me. Sort of.

Instead of the "It's not you, it's me" speech, I'm getting the "It's not us, it's you." Thanks, guys.

What is going on in my little house, you might be wondering. Let's see. Joe lives 4 hours away from us and we see him about every 2 weeks on weekends. Absence has made the my kids hearts grow fonder for their daddy and they look forward to seeing him. During the 2 weeks or so that he isn't here, it's just us doing our daily routine of me acting as a single parent while going to school full-time and doing some work on the side. Those of you who are single parents, I feel for you. It's a lot of work and you don't have the pleasure of pushing off some of the hard stuff on another person, like taking out the trash or unloading the dishwasher.

Joe spent Labor Day weekend with us and right before he got here, I noticed Caitlynn and Miles a little over-eager to have him here. Caitlynn was asking me every hour, "When is he going to be here?" Miles, not knowing anything about time (even though he has a Spiderman watch), just kept asking, "Is Daddy here yet?" I was a little annoyed with all the questions about Daddy, so I turned to Caitlynn and asked, "So, what is it about Daddy that you want him here so badly?" Her reply, "He's not you."

Ouch.

"So you're tired of me, eh?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough. I need a break from you, too."

It isn't like I'm a mean mother. I let them out of their cages in the morning and try to feed them healthy meals like fish head stew.

They have a rather easy life if you ask me. They go to school every day and then come home to play games on the computer or watch a little TV. (Caitlynn's teacher hasn't handed out homework yet, which I find a little odd especially since she had homework in kindergarten.) I wish I was in 3rd grade again where my worries centered on friends, math, and learning how to write in cursive.

What is it I do that makes the kids tired of me?

Well -- I wake them up every morning before they want to. Miles has been quite bear lately. I nag them about certain things -- typical mom stuff (pick up your toys, stop fighting, don't kill the fish by over feeding it, etc). Oh and I force Miles to attend preschool, against his will. And, probably the worst thing I've ever done (in their opinion) is I gave them a bedtime. Bedtime around here used to be negotiable and wasn't a strict thing until now. I need quiet time to study, so I want them in bed around 9:00. This is met with much resistance, but it's getting better.

What it comes down to is this: they don't like being told what to do and I'm the one laying down the law. Our house is not a democracy, but rather a dictatorship. I'm the Supreme Leader and Joe is the fun parent that they see every so often. The kids know that when he's here, bedtime is more lax, I don't nag as much, and I make actual family dinners that they like (for the most part).

Until Joe is able to find a job closer to us, the kids will have to continue being tired of me. As long as they do what they're told, I'm not that harsh of a dictator. I do laugh at their expense, but at least I'm laughing.

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Captain Caveman

I'm not really sure what it is about my kids and clothes or shoes...

When Caitlynn was a toddler we had a hard time keeping her clothed at home. She wanted to sit around in her underwear and still does, although now she wears a shirt and undies around the house. I'm glad she feels comfortable around us.

Then there's Miles and his shoes. He likes clothes for the most part, except for the few times I had to urge him back inside because he was playing in the sandbox in his underwear. Parents sure do get a little uppity when a 4 year old runs outside in his Incredible Hulk whitey tighties. I get stares all the time, which prompts me to say, "Well, you should be here when my husband streaks through the courtyard."

Back to Miles and his shoes --

He loves shoes. He wants millions of pairs of shoes lining his closet but he doesn't always want to wear them. He has a nifty pair of sandals from Lands End along with a pair of sneakers. (I mention the store because I think they make the best sandals and boots for kids -- seriously -- and I'm not getting paid to say it either.) Every afternoon, Miles and I arrive about 5 minutes early to Caitlynn's school so he can play on the ulta-cool playground set before the bell rings. Inevitably, after just a minute of playing he takes off his shoes and runs around barefoot.

In fact, he gets really excited when I let him go play outside in his barefeet. He usually asks first:

"Can I play outside wearing my barefoot?"

To which I reply, "Of course you can."

Why not? Wearing shoes is a rather new thing (in terms of the age of humans). Cavemen didn't wear shoes, so why should Miles? Or why should you?

But then I'm reminded of the scene in Die Hard where Bruce Willis walks on broken glass barefoot and then it cuts to him in the bathroom picking out pieces of glass. Just that alone makes me want to wear shoes. Ew.

Ok... so Miles needs wear his shoes or sandals. I'm not picking broken glass out of his feet. Not even if he's running from terrorists.

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Bookworm

We have massive amounts of books in our little household. Don't believe me? Ask my friend Stormy, who helped me pack up our books before moving to Montana. She'll tell ya. Books upon books upon books.

Have we actually read all these books? Well, when it comes to Joe's collection of theology, religion, art, and philosophy books, yes he has read every single one. It's quite a feat and it's probably the main reason he doesn't ever want to depart with his collection. He's refusing to sell any of them. We sold 5 boxes a few years ago via Ebay but that was tough on him. He regretted it and ended up repurchasing the same titles he sold. Go figure.

I realized the trouble I was in when I worked for a couple of his professors and saw all the books they had amassed. Thousands collected over the years sitting in offices and along hallways neatly arranged on bookshelves. This is what I get to look forward to - my very own theology and philosophy library.

My book collection consists of cookbooks (a boatload); novels -- true literature, some not-so-great literature, some disguising itself as literature; and nonfiction. I'm a bit of a nonfiction junkie these days, I guess mainly in the area of narrative nonfiction or travel writing. That being said, I didn't read Eat, Pray, Love. I got married at age 24 and had my first child at age 25. I don't think I can identify with the author (and for a book like this, I think I do need to identify somewhat with the author). Even though I complain about my kiddos, I am very content in my life and marriage. I honestly don't know what I would do without my kids or Joe. But hey, I'm sure it's a good read. I think Oprah recommended it. She knows all.

But all this brings to the statement I made to Joe one night as he was getting ready to read a bedtime story to Miles. I said, "Reading to kids is overrated." Yeah, I said it. I was cranky, tired, and wanting to go to bed. However, I do get slightly annoyed when Miles picks out the longest book in his collection, which tends to be a Jimmy Neutron story or a really long Dr Seuss book.

Don't get me wrong... I do want Miles to read, but part of me wishes he'd hurry up and learn it for himself. I'm almost to the point of telling his preschool teacher, "Ok. Can he start by memorizing the dictionary and skipping the See Spot Run stories? Too trivial. We need substance here. Let's get the hard words done and over with. This color and shape thing can wait. I'm hoping he can have War and Peace finished by December."

So tonight when Miles wants me to read him a story, I'm going to read him a book I'm currently reading, The $64 Tomato or my biology book, whichever I think will make him go to sleep the quickest. Probably the biology book. I just hope I don't fall asleep, too.

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Curious George

Caitlynn is one curious little girl. Geez Louise. Every day she asks me questions:

Who invented rope?
Who invented showers?
When did they invent showers?
Who invented the car? When?
Who invented movies?
Who invented ice cream?

I may have a vast amount of useless knowledge in my head but I don't know who invented showers. All I know is that I use one every day and I'm glad I have access to one. If I ever meet the person who invented showers, I'll thank him (or her) on behalf of everyone.

I know, I know, I shouldn't be complaining but rather, I should be happy and elated that I have a daughter with a thirst for knowledge. Woo-hoo! She wants to learn! Maybe she can tell me who invented the shower curtain. Was it Crate and Barrel?

Now, I have to teach her how to look things up on the internet because you know, everything you read on the internet is true. I have a feeling Wikipedia will become her newest friend.

Oh and I do know who invented the intermittent windshield wiper.

Greg Kinnear

Or was it this guy?

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